PS 3503 
.U59 R4 

1903 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




















/\ 




REED NOTES 



REED NOTES 



BY , 

BLANCHE M; BURBANK 



SAN FRANCISCO 

A. M. ROBERTSON 

1903 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

JAN 12 1904 

^Copyright Entry . 
G^S^' aT XXc. No, 

7 ^ok ? t 



COPYRIGHT, 1903 
BLANCHE M. BURBANK 



THE MURDOCK PRESS 



TO Mr CHILDREN 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

REED NOTES II 

AN EASTER OFFERING 13 

IN POPPY FIELDS I4 

SINGING IN THE RAIN 15 

MARCH 16 

TO KEATS 17 

APRIL 18 

nature's music 20 

THE COMING OF THE MAY 22 

EAGLE ROCK 23 

GOING TO THE SUMMER SCHOOL 24 

A SIGH 26 

UNDER THE LEAVES 27 

IN THE CANYON 28 

PRESAGE 29 

TO A FRIEND 30 

MAGNOLIA 31 



CONTENTS 

OCTOBER 32 

AN AUTUMN ROSE 33 

THE FIRST SNOW 34 

INSPIRATION 35 

LANDLOCKED 35 

HOW VAIN IS lite! 36 

NOT PEACE, NOT WAR 37 

A YELLOW BUTTERFLY 38 

life's CROWN 39 

LITTLE THINGS 4O 

TO GRACE 41 

HEREAFTER 42 

TWO VIEWS OF DEATH 43 

THE DAISIES OF THE FIELD 44 

RECLAMATION 45 

ROSES AND FERNS 46 

THE MASTER HAND 47 

AMBITION 48 

THE ROSE OF YESTERDAY 49 

THE TRUE CONQUEROR 50 

CONSTANCY 51 



8 



CONTENTS 

TOO YOUNG TO DIE $2 

LAYING THE CORNER-STONE 54 

ACHIEVEMENT 56 

SNOWFLAKES 57 

SLUMBER SONG 58 

LOVE IN AGE 60 

DEEDS 61 

MOTHER NATURE 62 



REED NOTES 

SiVEETER than song of a birdy 

Softer than murmuring rain^ 
Like exquisite melody heard 

When the heart is o^ erflowing with pain^ 
In a forest of dreaming ^ my spirit is stirred 

By the Muse' s ceolian strain. 

And when in a rapture I wake^ 
And follow on blindly ^ like Pan, 

That ravishing music o'er mountain and 
brake. 
Which ever the fleetest outran, 

Despairing, I seize a poor reed and I make 
Such music, for love, as I can. 



AN EASTER OFFERING 

A LiivY watched I through the Lenten-tide, 
From when its emerald sheath first pierced the mold. 
I saw its satin blades uncurl, unfold. 
And ever upward stretch with yearning wide 
Toward the great sky. At length, the leaves beside, 
There came a flower beauteous to behold. 
Breathing of purest joy and peace untold. 
Its radiance filled the Easter altar-side. 

And in my heart there rose a sense of shame 
That I, alas, no precious gift had brought 
Which could approach the splendor of this thing, — 
I who so long had borne the Master's name ! 
Humbly I bowed, while meek Repentance wrought 
With silent tears her chastened offering. 



13 



IN POPPY FIELDS 

O WONDERFUL golden treasure! 

O wealth of the sun and dew ! 
Where Phoebus drives for pleasure 

All day his chariot through; 

Where the lark sings ever for gladness, 
Between the blue and the gold, 

Where is no room left for sadness. 
And sorrow finds no foothold. 

O bird mid the poppies singing. 
Thy wings on the nest afold, 

If we knew but how to be bringing 
Golden song to a nest of gold ! 

O lark singing high in the heaven, 

O lark, if we only knew 
That sunshine is love's best leaven. 

Our song might ring pure and true! 



14 



SINGING IN THE RAIN 

In the gray of April morning 
Sang the bluebird in the rain. 

Though the skies were dark with warning 
Poured he forth a merry strain ; 

Spite of all the stormy weather, 

And in spite of dampened feather, 
Gayly singing in the rain. 

From a joyous heart up welling, 
Sang the minstrel in the rain; 

Sang he to the young buds swelling 
On the lilac bush again, 

Sang he of the sunny weather, 

Days and days of it together. 
That would follow after rain. 

Brief the lay, then off he darted, 
But the song was not in vain; 

All day long its echoes started, 
Thrilling heart and soothing brain. 

Till in spite of stormy weather. 

Days and days of it together. 
Sang my heart, too, in the rain ! 



15 



MARCH 

B01.D roisterer 'neath heaven's tempestuous arch ! 
Earth hath no lover half so fierce as thee. 
Yet, if thou deem'st that such wild minstrelsy 
Of weird tunes piped through plaintive pine and 

larch 
Can win her smiles, then art thou mad, O March ! 

For thou hast moods as soft as summer's smile. 
And gentle airs, and warm relenting days 
With which to woo thy Phyllis 'mid green ways ; 
A wreath of violets to bestow awhile, 
And crocus cups of nectar to beguile. 



16 



TO KEATS 

O Keats ! Thy very name is like a breath 
To conjure all the ecstasy of spring; 
The opening musk-rose, birds on joyous wing, 
And violet banks where young Love languisheth. 
Poet of Spring! Thy fancy's shibboleth 
Unlocks a charm not May alone can bring. 
Still, still thy matchless nightingale doth sing 
In some bright empyrean unswept of death! 

As some pale watcher of the midnight skies 
Sees one by one the glowing stars grow dim, 
And fade from sight beneath the horizon's marge ; 
So Earth beheld thy star of genius rise, 
Take its brief course, then like a planet swim 
Forth into space, illimitable, large. 



17 



APRIL 

O SINGER in the sunshine, 

O warbler 'neath the eaves! 
What is it in the springtime 

That both delights and grieves? 
One moment past fair April smiled, 

Now violet eyes are wet. 
O, tell me ere my heart 's beguiled, 

If she 's a sad coquette! 

O, yonder in the orchard 

Bird-song and budding boughs, 
And yonder in the meadow 

Are happy hopes that house; 
And never once the music stops 

In sunshine or in rain, 
That liquid song like balsam drops 

Into this heart of pain. 



i8 



APRIL 

O singer in the sunshine, 

O warbler 'neath the eaves! 
My heart's beset with hopes and fears 

This springtime weather weaves. 
One moment past my fair one smiled, 

Now violet eyes are wet. 
O, teach me since my heart's beguiled 

To sing too, — and forget! 



19 



NATURE'S MUSIC 

Harken to the elfin music 

Of the merry little rills, 
With a tinkle and a gurgle 

As they hurry down the hills, 
Purling over mossy pebbles. 

Forming miniature cascades. 
Dashing over rocky ledges, 

Murmuring softly through the glades ; 
Theirs is a happy cadence 

That no mortal tongue can learn, 
Though the waters have been singing 

Since the world began to turn. 

And what ear can catch the measure 

That the fairy flowers ring. 
As the south wind gently sways them 

To the dancing feet of Spring? 



20 



NATURE'S MUSIC 

Or the singing of the forest 

When the minstrel of the breeze 
Tunes his wizard harp seolian 

In the summits of the trees: 
These are melodies too subtile 

To affect a mortal ear. 
Their diviner, finer music 

Only listening hearts may hear. 



21 



THE COMING OF THE MAY 

Have you heard the bluebells ringing 
When the gentle South goes straying, 
Like a love-lorn piper playing 
Through the lonely woodland way? 
Have you heard the fairies singing 
In and out among the flowers 
As they work between the showers 
On a fickle April day? 

How they fly, those nimble fingers! 
All the cloudy scenery shifting, 
All the drooping flowers lifting. 
Brushing every tear away; 
Till within the wood there lingers 
Not a trace of April's sadness, 
All is sunshine, joy and gladness 
For the bonny First of May. 



22 



EAGLE ROCK 

I KNOW a charmed valley where expands 
The rose in bright perennial blossoming, 
Where mockingbirds melodious magic sing, 
And orchards lift white fragrant happy hands. 
And in the midst of these Arcadian lands, 
As poised for flight, yet vainly lingering 
Against its will, like some enchanted thing 
Long turned to stone, a huge gray eagle stands. 

Perchance old Perseus with the Gorgon's head 

Surprised this bird with giant wings outspread, 

And so forever by these western seas 

A prisoner of the gods no more he roves. 

Guarding new treasures of Hesperides 

Hung mid the verdurous gloom of orange-groves. 



GOING TO THE SUMMER SCHOOL 

Where the tall sweet meadow-grass 
Mingles with the snowy daisies, 
And the flitting swallows pass 
Close above their tangled mazes; 
Through the shady woodland cool 
Where the early pinxters wake, 
Lay the path I used to take 
Going to the summer school. 

Up the hill where orchard trees 
Stood 'neath loaded branches groaning, 
Down the hollow where the bees 
'Mid the berry vines went droning; 
Past the lurking tempting pool 
Fringed with cattail, rush, and brake, 
Led the path I used to take 
Going to the summer school. 

What reluctant, lagging feet 
Dragged I to my daily learning, 
Lured to chase some creature fleet 
For its winged freedom yearning; 



24 



GOING TO THE SUMMER SCHOOL 

Oft the master's birchen rule 
Had no power the spell to break 
Of the winding way I'd take 
Going to the summer school. 

How I envied birds and bees 
And the squirrels in the hedges, 
While the truant summer breeze 
Played among the tuneful sedges! 
To the plaintive catbird's mewl 
Mocking answer I would make, 
Vexed that I must needs forsake 
Pleasure for the pent-up school. 

" When I grow to be a man 

I '11 consult my own sweet pleasure." 

Many times I made this plan — 

Ah, those youthful dreams of leisure! 

Father Time, whose iron rule 

Doth no laggard steps await. 

Teaches us or soon or late 

Life is one long summer school. 



25 



A SIGH 

O FOR the olden days, 

The olden days and golden, 

When life looked out on the flowery ways 

That lost themselves in the rainbow haze 

Of a future that now is olden. 

O to inhale again 

The rapturous breath of the morning, 
When young Love led by a daisy chain 
Our willing hearts to his bright domain; 
Then fled with no word of warning. 

Alas that the flowers of spring 
Bloom not in bleak December; 
That Time, who forever is on the wing, 
Robs us of joy but leaves the sting, 
Which is — that we remember! 



26 



UNDER THE LEAVES 

Into the lap of the bare brown earth, 
Stripped of her beautiful golden sheaves, 

As if in sympathy for her dearth, 
Flutter and nestle the autumn leaves. 

And the lonely landscape hides away 

Her face deep-lined with sad decay 
Under the leaves! 

Down from the tall old forest trees. 

The leafy showers gently fall, 
And, taking the wings of the passing breeze, 

Softly they cover the earth like a pall. 
Ah, would that we the past might fold 
Of blighted hopes and dreams untold 
Under the leaves! 

Under the leaves of the flying years, 
O strive, thou weary soul, to lay 

The care and sorrow, the bitter tears, 
The dreary burden of yesterday; 

Away deep down in the heart's recess, 

Under the leaves of forgetfulness. 
Under the leaves! 



27 



IN THE CANYON 

Brave with wild asters, clothed in chaparral, 
Beauteous with Autumn's lavish store, 
With moss-hung oak, and tasseled sycamore, 
Gray eucalyptus, and green chamisal. 
The canyon flings wide-open doors to all. 
Her walls shut out old Ocean's ceaseless roar. 
Shut out the desolate stretch of sandy shore. 
I enter, and all worldly burdens fall. 

The present holds me in its dreamy spell, 

The past no longer calls me like the sea. 

The spirit of the canyon sets me free! 

Care's voice is hushed, no rankling memories tell 

Of future tasks. On Time's remotest rim 

They loom like distant mountains gray and dim. 



28 



PRESAGE 

September in a warning mood 
Has hung a signal in the wood, — 
A maple branch as red as blood. 

Earth's grief, like Rachel's, soon will sound 
Through naked boughs, a wail profound 
For her dead children of the ground. 



29 



TO A FRIEND 

When words are dumb, and music fails to reach 
The springs whence Nature's deep emotions start, 

Then comes the finer gift of floral speech, 
Which ever speaks directly to the heart. 

So when to-day your roses came to me, 
With friendly message and a sweet surprise, 

Their fragrant whispers stirred the memory 
And bade a train of happy musings rise. 

Wherefore, dear friend, I thank you for these blooms 
Which so much brightness in this day have wrought 

With brilliant hues and delicate perfumes ; 

But more I thank you for your kindly thought. 



30 



MAGNOLIA 

Thou hast beauty's peerless form, 
Regal grace, and stately pose. 

But thou lackest, dear, the warm. 
Tender passion of the rose. 

Lofty in thy proud disdain. 

Birds and bees may come and go; 

Love finds not his sweet domain 
In thy gleaming breast of snow. 

And when Hesperus nightly throws 
Twinkling kisses to the flowers. 

Calm thy bosom's white repose 
Through the lonely star-lit hours. 



31 



OCTOBER 

How sweet to wander in the pleasant breeze, 
Where wild grapes purple in the mellow sun, 
And ripened nuts drop softly one by one; 
While from the sumac's crimson canopies 
The wood-thrush pipes his parting melodies! 
Yet through the brilliant web the autumn weaves 
Full many a somber thread the eye perceives. 
And her bland breath is full of prophecies. 

So loved October dons her garments gay, 
And, veiling her sad face in golden haze. 
Dreams to divert us by her festive guise; 
As friends departing meet our mournful gaze 
With smiles, and, smiling, sadly turn away, 
Lest we shall read the anguish in their eyes. 



32 



AN AUTUMN ROSE 

Sweet rose of the autumn-tide, faintly she blushes, 
Dreaming of summer upon her lone stem; 

As faintly the rose-tint the cheek of age flushes 
When fond recollection rolls up some bright gem. 

Soft hid in her bosom are visions of Maytime, 
Deep down in her heart lies the fragrance of June; 

In memory yet there are echoes of playtime. 
Though Nature is singing her lullaby tune. 

Ah, priceless the beauty and joy of the morning. 
The freshness of youth, and love's tender duress ; 

But age holds a jewel of rarer adorning 
In the calm of the spirit that lingers to bless. 



33 



THE FIRST SNOW 

When wintry winds have stripped the garden bare, 
And fields are drear and skies are overcast; 
When naught remains of glory that is past, 
Of leaf or flower that made the summer fair; 
And Earth, bereft of her proud affluence rare. 
To abject poverty is brought at last, 
Garbed all in tatters, shivering in the blast, 
Image of desolation and despair: 

Then comes that gentle almoner, the snow, 
And folds in ermine her unsightliness. 
Dead flower-stalks, with soft corollas crowned, 
Blossom once more in frigid loveliness ; 
While the still pines stand manded in a row, 
Like some white sisterhood to silence bound. 



34 



INSPIRATION 

Truth touched me, and in burning words I sought 
To write her message, that the world might see, 

When lo ! upon my page an alien thought 
In beauty was interpreted to me! 



LANDLOCKED 

Here all is turmoil; breakers beat and roar, 
The shallows fume and fret for evermore; 
While far out on the deep and tranquil sea 
Sail happy ships to ports of Destiny. 



35 



HOW VAIN IS LIFE! 

(from the FRENCH) 

How vain is life! 

Love's slender spell, 
Hate's futile strife, 

And then, — farewell. 

How brief is life! 

Hope's lessening light 
With dreams is rife, 

And then, — good-night. 



36 



NOT PEACE, NOT WAR 

Not the loud din and battle-roar which call 
Mid martial music to the clash of arms, 
Shall free Life's warrior from those still alarms 
Which sound the claims of conscience unto all; 
Nor yet shall myriad arts of peace enthrall 
His sense secure, nor soft inaction's charms : 
E'en sleep hath dreams of vague impending harms 
Whose shadows haunt the thoughtful interval. 

Not peace, not war, but the subdued, still strife 
Of hidden conflict 'twixt the right and wrong; 
The mastery of passion; loving deeds; — 
These mark the achievements of the inner life. 
Who conquers self may rise serene and strong 
O'er warring dogmas and the wreck of creeds. 



37 



A YELLOW BUTTERFLY 

Out of my chrysalis came I 
Unknowing as this butterfly, 
Into a world to live and die. 



Let me not ask, then, why nor whence 
This throbbing interlude of sense 
Between the unfeeling thence and hence 

Content if I may dart one ray 
Of joy athwart a dullsome day. 
Ere I go faring on my way. 



38 



LIFE'S CROWN 

All day beside the vast and shining sea 
Life sat, and twined a wreath of varied hue; 
Where HHes clasped the bitter, bitter rue, 
And roses cheek to cheek lay lovingly 
With cypress and with yew. 

And all day long, with ceaseless, tireless breath, 
Came voices from the great mysterious deep. 
And when the shadows shoreward did creep 
Life, binding snow-white poppies in her wreath, 
So softly fell asleep. 

Then came the shining ones far o'er the sea. 
And on her forehead laid her garland low; 
But as they bore her to their boat's white prow. 
Saw they sharp thorns that pressing cruelly. 
Drew blood-drops from her brow! 



39 



LITTLE THINGS 

O THE wee little worries and commonplace woes, 
Like the canker that eats out the heart of the rose, 
Or the water that wears away rock as it flows. 
They are silently bringing our lives to a close. 

Not the battle-field wounds, but the tiny bee-stings, 
The word spoken sharply that rankles and clings. 
Not the large things of life, but the mean little things, 
Embitter its sweetness, and poison its springs. 



40 



TO GRACE 

Thine eyes are blue as summer skies; 
On thy young brow no shadow lies 

As yet of dull and cloudy care. 
Life's meadowlands lie cool and sweet 
And fresh beneath thy untried feet, 

And pleasures bloom like flowers fair. 

Ah, may no woes in coming years 
Thy vision dim with falling tears! 

Meek as a lowly flower bends 
Beneath its load of night-born dew, 

So bow thy heart when Heaven sends 
Some grief to prove thy spirit true; 

And Break of Day shall bring to thee 

Divinest benedicite. 



41 



HEREAFTER 

When thou shalt pass that borderland unseen, 
Where in a single softly outblown breath 
Life renders its last hostage unto death, 
And pays the penalty for having been; 
When thou, my soul, 'neath other skies serene, 
Shalt walk 'mid full fruition of thy faith 
Where joyously the spirit reveleth 
In the celestial beauty of the scene: 

Will memory then, with grim distorted dream 
Of this sad world where once thou toiled and wept. 
Pierce thy bright bliss like some sharp arrow sped? 
Or when thou tastest of Oblivion's stream. 
Wilt wake, and never know that thou hast slept? 
And live, and never dream thou once wert dead? 



42 



TWO VIEWS OF DEATH 

Grim Death and I met vis-a-vis. 
So near he came I felt his breath. 
He bent his dreadful gaze on me 
As one who, faltering, questioneth 
If he shall smite an enemy. 

He passed. And yet may come a day 
When, weary of this toilful breath, 
My soul will long to soar away, 
And I shall call thee friend, O Death, 
To break this prison-house of clay! 



43 



THE DAISIES OF THE FIELD 

We love to scan the starry skies, 
But day by day, unmindful, pass 
The meadow's humble traceries, 
The constellations of the grass: 

Nor heed the gentle lesson taught 
As meekly patient, year by year. 
They come without our care or thought, 
An inspiration sent to cheer. 



44 



RECLAMATION 

Amid the city's busy whirl and sweep, 
Men haggle, cheat, and strive for sordid gold. 
And all that life holds sweet is bought and sold, 
And all that life holds dear is held most cheap. 
Here the blood stagnates and the pulses creep; 
Tired Nature never speaks out loud and bold, 
Nor dares her better impulses unfold, 
Imprisoned in Convention's guarded keep. 

O for a voice from out the wilderness 
Crying repentance on this narrow life! 
Boundless the inspiration of the hills 
The wealth of poppied fields that wait to bless; 
Priceless the calm of valleys free from strife, 
The joy the lowliest blade of grass instills. 



45 



ROSES AND FERNS 

Thou queen of roses, fragrant-breathed La France! 
Emblem of love and joy, and that sweet train 
Whose soft allurements youthful hearts enchain, 
As when in golden heyday of Romance 
They lent to Chivalry a charmed lance. 
Sacred to thee the blush and bounding vein. 
And those emotions that at Beauty's fane 
Enshrine fair tribute with thine elegance. 

Alas, like Love, thy charms too quickly fade. 
And thy pale petals feed a nameless pain. 
So from thy bright enchantments I would turn 
To the green coolness of this wilding fern. 
Whose dewy fronds recall the sylvan glade. 
And those calm joys of friendship that remain. 



46 



THE MASTER HAND 

My heart is a lute 

Whereon who plays 

With kindred feeling finds responsive strings. 

To others it is mute; 

While only one can wake its sweetest lays, 

Or tune to sadness every song it sings. 



47 



AMBITION 

Enchantress, ever powerful, as when, 
Enthroned upon thine ancient mountain height, 
In mystery impenetrably bright 
Thy voice first fell upon the ears of men, 
To lure them to thy solitary flight! 
Thy steeps to scale when lofty souls aspire. 
In their mad chase each struggling to be first, 
Thou still demandest : " Higher, ever higher ! ' 
Till trampling others in the race accurst, 
And pressing on, thy victims grow purblind 
And deaf to all save one intense desire. 
Love, virtue, honor, — all are left behind: 
Yet what, dread Circe, is thy recompense. 
Since none survives thy treacherous eminence? 



48 



THE ROSE OF YESTERDAY 

Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say ; 
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday f 

—Omar Khayyam. 

Adown the current of Time's stream, 
So swifltly flowing on its way, 

As softly, lightly as a dream 

There floats the Rose of Yesterday. 

Had we a joy that we would clasp? 

Alas, upon that foaming spray 
We see it borne beyond our grasp 

To be the bride of Yesterday. 

O Rose of Life! so passing sweet. 
To clasp thee one bright fleeting day, 

And feel Love's high exultant beat. 
Thy mystic price who would not pay? 

O Yesterday! so rich in fee 

Of all we loved, we would not stay 

Thy rushing torrent, knowing we 
Shall soon be with thee. Yesterday! 



49 



THE TRUE CONQUEROR 

Behold the victor faring from the fray- 
With haughty brow and mien, while from afar 
Rises like incense to the gods of war 
The smoke of ruined cities brought to bay. 
Behold the fool who spends the little day 
We call his life, seeking to fix his star 
In the ascendant, striving to kill and mar. 
And play the Caesar in his puny way. 

O, not to such the waiting world looks now ! 
She would forget the bloodshed and the tears ; 
Weary of war, she prays that carnage cease. 
Who will arise to lead her brighter years. 
The seal of brotherhood upon his brow, 
And in his hand the olive branch of peace? 



50 



CONSTANCY 

Love dreamed our paths through Ufe together lay. 
Stern Fate the dream dispelled, and 'neath her sway 
We sadly parted, and each one the way 

Alone pursued. 
Yet, though my feet have wandered from thee wide, 
My swift-winged thoughts are ever at thy side. 
Fond guardian spirits who thy steps would guide 

Unto all good. 

And if sometime, somewhere, in that pure sphere 
Where sorrow is unknown, nor parting tear 
Nor shade of separation doth appear. 

Thy soul seek mine; 
If in thy gentle spirit eyes I trace 
A changeless love Death's power could not efface, 
My hand in thy dear hand I '11 gladly place. 

Forever thine! 



51 



TOO YOUNG TO DIE 

" Too young to die ! " we sometimes say 
Of one who falls asleep before 

The heat and burden of the day 

Have proved the unequal load he bore. 

" Too young to die ! " and, grieving, we, 
Rebellious-hearted, blind of eye. 

Know not the future, can not see 
The veiled lightning cleave its sky. 

Too young to die! Ah, may not death 
The waking be to larger life, 

Whose deeper meaning, freer breath 
With opportunity is rife? 

Too young to die! Perchance in truth 
God counts not time, and if it be 

The cycles of eternity 

Know neither hoary age nor youth; 



52 



TOO YOUNG TO DIE 

What matters it what length of years 
That each in his allotted place 

With equal share of smiles and tears 
Must measure for a little space? 

What seems in vain was wisely planned, 
And He who marks the sparrow's fall, 

Dear Heart, doth hold us one and all 
Safe in the hollow of His hand. 



53 



LAYING THE CORNER-STONE 

Written for the laying of the corner- 
stone of the Y. W. C. A.'s building, 
Oakland, California, 1892. 

As the painter's dream is wrought, 
As the sculptor's darling thought 

Slowly shapens into stone; 
So the end that we have sought 
With a cherished purpose fraught 

Real and tangible has grown. 

And to-day with gladdened eyes 
See we these foundations rise, 

As with prayerful hearts we own 
God must bless our enterprise, 
Else, though it should touch the skies, 

We were wretched and undone. 

While we build against the years. 
Mingling with our hopes our fears. 
Build we not for time alone. 



54 



LAYING THE CORNER-STONE 

Woman's faith through woman's tears 
Is the fabric that uprears 
High above the corner-stone. 

And the thoughtful eye may scan 
Through the finite builder's plan, 

Dealing only with the known, 
Love and hope and faith in man — 
Bonds invisible that span 

Arching o'er our comer-stone. 

Not in weeks or months or days 
Spring the green rewarding bays, 

And when centuries have flown 
Still shall life's outgoing ways 
Sing in notes of blame or praise 

How we laid this comer-stone. 

Humbly, then, with hymn and prayer 
We invoke God's loving care 

On the seed that we have sown. 
Thou who numberest every hair. 
Still our feeble hands upbear, — 

O be Thou our comer-stone! 

L.ofC. 55 



ACHIEVEMENT 

Little the good that I have wrought 

In this brief life, and still 
He who can read my inmost thought, 

He who doth know the will, 
Alone may judge how I have sought 

Some goodness to fulfill. 



56 



SNOWFLAKES 

Love, when you and I were strolling 

In the orchard long ago, 
Apple-blossoms, softly falling, 

Seemed like flakes of fragrant snow. 

Now around us draws life's winter, 
But the Fates are not unkind. 

For somehow the falling snowflakes 
Bring those apple-blooms to mind. 



57 



SLUMBER SONG 

Sweet and low 

The cool winds blow, 
The sun sinks slowly in the west, 

And lowing herds 

And drowsy birds 
Proclaim the time of grateful rest. 

Cool and low 

The night winds blow, — 
Come launch the baby's slumber boat! 

Set the white sails 

To catch the gales. 
And let him into dreamland float. 

To and fro 

Now rock and row, 
As past the sandman's isle we glide. 

The fine sand flies 

In baby's eyes 
Till he can scarcely ope them wide. 



58 



SLUMBER SONG 

So near at hand 

Is that fair land 
Whose poppy-laden breezes steep, 

In soft repose 

His eyelids close, — 
My babe has reached the realms of Sleep ! 



59 



LOVE IN AGE 

Close as some wind-blown vine in winter clings 
To sturdy trunk unbending in the blast; 

Even so my steadfast love its tendrils flings 
Around thy firmer nature, and holds fast. 

And whether wind blows soft or tempests rage, 
And whether skies are fair or dark above, 

What matters it, since all the frosts of age 

Have left untouched, unscathed our early love? 

Firm knit in heart and life, we calmly wait 

Heaven's harbingers of spring ; and in our dreams 

Come genial airs that waft us near the Gate, 
And thrill our spirits with resplendent gleams. 



60 



DEEDS 

Not what we wish, but what we accomplish; 

Not what we dream, but what we do; 
Deeds are the golden rungs of the ladder 

By which we climb to the ultimate true. 



6i 



MOTHER NATURE 

Dear Mother, like a tired child, some day. 
Worn out with all this worldly greed and pride; 
With hopes and aims like playthings tossed aside, 
As one too weary or too weak to pray, 
I '11 lay my head upon thy heart and say : — 
" The way was winding that my feet have tried ; 
I 've wandered far, but now, whate'er betide. 
From thee I never more shall turn away." 

Then shall I feel thine arms about me twine 
In the soft tendrils of some creeping vine, 
And thou wilt fold me in the evening hours 
To sleep upon thy lap amid the flowers 
All dreamless, and, to mark my place of rest. 
Perchance one violet more upon thy breast. 



62 

WIS 



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